


Mornings and Kisses

by Marguerite Muguet (margueritem)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margueritem/pseuds/Marguerite%20Muguet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mornings, kisses and beds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to my livejournal on February 10th, 2003.
> 
> Betaed by karelian. All remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Inspired by these [two](http://web.archive.org/web/20030205085828/http://celluloid-haven.com/Miscellaneous/i_d/i_d_03.jpg) [pictures](http://web.archive.org/web/20030205085043/http://celluloid-haven.com/Miscellaneous/i_d/i_d_04.jpg).

Viggo’s blanket, soft and heavy, warmed him, while the cold air of the room created a pleasant contrast on his face. The pillow under him smelled of Sean; maybe he had once again stolen the other man's pillow during the night.

Viggo was dreaming, a nice dream involving Sean and butterflies. They were on a very small island, for some reason. The blue ocean surrounded them, the colour of the sky and water blended in the horizon. A few trees grew on the island, and the grass was green and soft.

Part of him was puzzled; when did they get there? Another part of him found it all perfectly natural.

The Sean in the dream sat against a tree, butterflies dancing around him, sometimes settling themselves on Sean’s face, arms or raised hands. They were flecks of colour: blue, red, yellow, green, gold – a fragmented rainbow. Sean smiled, and Viggo wished he could kiss him without disturbing the butterflies.

To kiss Sean’s eyelids, and feel the lashes flutter against Viggo’s lips, just before making contact. To kiss that smile, and feel its joy upon his lips. To kiss that neck, and smell the familiar sent, imagining all the while the happiness on Sean’s face, the butterflies in his hair.

Viggo raised his hand, to touch Sean, gently, and a butterfly perched itself on his finger. He looked at it, and realized that the butterfly was making a strange sound. The movement of its wings produced a clicking sound.

It flew away, lazily, describing figure-eights in the air. Its delicate wings were composed of different shades of brown and beige, with flecks of green – a piece of the earth flying gracefully.

Viggo tried to kill the guilty butterfly, to get rid of the sound, but the butterfly flew happily out of reach. He kept on trying, and the butterfly kept on flying, tauntingly alive, until Viggo felt the dream dissolve around him. Sean seemed very far, suddenly; he drew farther and farther away until all the colours blended and no form was recognizable anymore.

Viggo tried to grasp the dream, remember it, but it dispersed until all he could vaguely recall was Sean’s presence in the dream.

The clicking sound continued, however. Viggo frowned, trying to guess what could be making a click so early in the morning. He opened one eye, not too much, and saw Sean, camera in hand, smiling and watching him.

“Go away," Viggo said, his voice slurred by sleep. He hugged the pillow closer, closed his eye, and tried to go back to sleep. A vague feeling of contentment was all that remained of the dream.

Viggo heard the clicking once again. He groaned and hid under the blanket. Sean pulled at the covers. "Get out from under there," he whispered, and Viggo could hear the smile in that sentence.

Viggo remained stubbornly under the blanket. He secretly enjoyed the feel of Sean's leg pressing against his, through layers. "Stop taking pictures and let me sleep," he whined. Sean pulled more strongly on the covers, but not too much. Viggo tightened his grip.

Sean came closer to Viggo's blanket-covered head. His voice, still a whisper, sounded much closer. "Come out from under there." Sean pressed one hand on where he accurately guessed was Viggo's lower back.

The feel of that hand, even through the blanket, spread warm pleasure through Viggo’s back. Viggo peeked from under the covers. "You're not supposed to be a morning person."

Sean had the camera ready and took another photo. "It's not morning for my body." Sean grinned, like a kid with a new toy. Happiness seemed to radiate from him.

Viggo remembered the time difference between here and England. No wonder Sean looked awake and not grumpy. He’d been dozing off last night during dinner. He’d fallen asleep on Viggo’s bed while Viggo tried to undress him. Sean was usually much more cooperative for the undressing.

Viggo smiled, not really bothered by the picture taking. Although, he knew by experience that he wouldn't be able to get his camera back for the day. Sean tended to be single-minded and didn't give things up easily, particularly Viggo’s things.

Sean had put some clothes on, some old sweatpants and shirt. Viggo knew he’d seen them before; he vaguely remembered having fun removing them from Sean’s body.

Viggo pushed the covers, still on his back. He asked, "What time is it?" at the same time as he turned towards the clock. He couldn’t see the hour as the clock was turned too much away from him.

*Click*

Viggo wondered of this was some kind of revenge on the many times he’d sneaked up on Sean to take a picture. Sean had at one point gotten tired of having his picture taken by Viggo, and had begun to actively hide from him, when Viggo had a camera. It had required from then on a lot of sneaking or persuasion on Viggo’s part to get pictures of Sean. Of course, as their relationship grew, Viggo took much pleasure in persuading Sean.

Viggo belatedly noticed Sean wasn’t using a flash; he wondered if the morning light would be enough or if the pictures would be too dark. He wondered if Sean wasn’t using it out of consideration for Viggo or because he just hadn’t found the right button.

"Around eight," said Sean, who then pouted - although Viggo knew better than to mention it; the film had reached its end.

Viggo abandoned any idea of sleeping late. He sat, his back leaning to the wall. He often indulged in late mornings when he was with Sean, and it usually suited the other man just fine. He’d thought this morning would be the same, but he’d obviously forgotten the time difference.

Sean put the camera on the bedside table. He was on the wrong side of the bed, and had to reach over Viggo. His shirt rode up, and exposed part of Sean’s back. Viggo never resisted temptation; after all, not resisting had gotten him Sean.

Sean cried in surprise, when Viggo’s hands touched his naked flesh. “Your hands are cold,” he said, but without moving away. “They’re always cold.” He moved closer, settling on Viggo’s lap, straddling him. He brought their foreheads together and smiled. “Good morning.”

Viggo’s eyes were on Sean’s lips, loving the way they moved to form words. “Good morning.” Viggo didn't hesitate; he kissed Sean. He intended to make it a long, wet kiss. He didn’t get to do it every morning; he didn’t get to do it every night either. Living on two different continents sucked: Viggo couldn’t kiss Sean every time the urge arose.

Sean had guessed Viggo’s intention; he closed his eyes, and took a little, sharp in-breath before meeting Viggo's kiss. Lips and tongues moved lazily, taking their time, enjoying the meeting for as long as the two men wanted it to last.

When the kiss ended, Viggo asked, “What do you want to do today?” His hands caressed Sean’s back, Sean’s chest. He was tempted to dip lower; he savoured the temptation, prolonging the anticipation, before giving in.

Sean gasped. “Besides sex?” His hips rose; Sean tried to get closer to Viggo, while his hands reacquainted themselves with Viggo’s upper body. They explored what was available, relearning a familiar territory.

Viggo slept in the nude, always. Sean enjoyed it tremendously, Viggo knew. In the beginning, it hadn’t been conducive to sleep, however. All that flesh available, no barriers... Sean had decided they didn’t need sleep, anyway. They’d often arrived on the set tired, and it had show on their face. The make-up people always complained about it.

Sean kissed Viggo’s neck. He licked, bit and sucked, concentrating in one area. Viggo’s breathing grew heavy; Viggo inclined his head to one side, giving more access to Sean. “Yeah, besides sex.” He tightened his grip under the covers and increased the speed of stroking. Sean moaned; Viggo slowed.

Sean growled. “Nothing,” he answered. He gently bit Viggo before adding, “Don’t tease.” He rose enough to push the covers out of the way before settling down again.

Viggo helped him removed the shirt. “Okay.” He bent and bit one of Sean’s nipples, pushing Sean at the same time on the bed. He rapidly took the sweatpants off, throwing them in the general direction of... something.

Sean took Viggo’s head in his hands and brought his lover closer for a kiss. After they broke apart, he proceeded on caressing and kissing various favourite Viggo-parts. He said, “We should buy a house together. We could have sex in every room, all the time.”

Viggo reached for the bedside table, separating himself from Sean; he opened the drawer, searching for the lube. His fingers found notebooks, pencils, old letters, but no lube. Viggo threw the covers off the bed and then the pillows over his head, while Sean laughed softly, spread like a feast on the bed. Viggo growled, kissed Sean sharply and briefly, before searching on the floor.

While he waited for Viggo to locate the lube on the floor, Sean stroke himself lazily, his eyes halfway closed, a smile tugging his lips upwards. “We could have a garden, with a high fence around the house, and tall trees. To hide us from prying eyes while I fuck you on the grass.” He completely closed his eyes; maybe he was seeing it, in his mind.

Viggo finally located the lube, under the bed, and rejoined Sean. The idea of trees, flowers, grass and Sean resonated inside Viggo, who tried to grasp the memory of... something, but it remained elusive. “Yeah, we should.” They always talked about this in the middle of sex or in the middle of the night, when tomorrows never come, the world is far away, and everything is possible. They never mentioned it any other times; it was too fragile for the light of day or reason. “I could kiss you any time I wanted,” said Viggo. He felt his heart tighten, suddenly, unexpectedly. As if it were bruising, just a bit, just from looking at Sean at that precise moment.

Sean gasped, “Yes.” He opened his legs wider and pulled Viggo closer. His eyes, now opened and nearly black from pleasure, met Viggo’s.

Viggo wasn’t sure if Sean had replied to his comment or responded to the feel of fingers in his ass. It didn’t matter.

Sean was here for a week; they could have sex in every room in *this* house. They couldn’t have sex in the garden, but Viggo would be able to kiss him any time the need arose.


End file.
